


Of Late I Think of The Elevator

by Lexasyellowpellow



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Nightmares, Pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-23
Updated: 2016-01-23
Packaged: 2018-05-15 18:51:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5795878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lexasyellowpellow/pseuds/Lexasyellowpellow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A very very short one shot about Root having nightmares and the Machine comforting her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Late I Think of The Elevator

Root lays in bed tossing around in a cold sweat as images of Shaw being shot over and over and her cold lifeless body on the ground flood her vision. Then she’s overcome and a scream erupts from her mouth. She wakes up gasping for air, the blankets in a twisted mess around her legs. Her heart beats erratically beneath her skin as she tries desperately to calm her breathing to a steady pace. Tears sting her eyes as they begin to roll unbidden down her cheeks. She’s surprised when one falls to her chest, unaware until then that she’d been crying. The images flood her again, blood and Shaw’s cold empty eyes on the hard ground, Martine, the harsh blue lights of the elevator and the heavy metal that separated her from her love. She hugs her knees to her body and thrashes about unable to soothe herself.

Suddenly a voice enters her mind, breaking through the painful memories and twisted visions in a clear and eerily calm tone, “ _She was not your fault._ ”

Root chokes on a sob, surprised to hear the Machine attempting to console her.

“ _I will look after you. You are safe_ ” the Machine did not know what more to say. She was unable to bring back Agent Shaw. To tell Root that the agent was taken for use by Samaritan and was being tortured would undoubtedly put Root in danger. So instead She stayed silent, unwilling to give any details even when faced with her friends broken pleas in the night.

“ _Analog interface must remain safe._ ” She would answer when feeling particularly bold. Root hated this answer because it implied the Machine was keeping information from her. But now at a time like this alone and shivering from nightmares in the dark, the Machine felt a sorrow for her interface.

“ _Must get sleep. Number in the morning_ ” she offered.

Root frowned but her sobs had stilled. She lay quiet on her side still clutching her knees. When sleep would not come the Machine began to play soft music in Roots ears, a soothing sound from a distant past. In a few moments a steady rise and fall came to Roots chest and she was asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> I previously posted this on my tumblr and wanted to share it with you all. If you like it let me know, maybe I can turn it into a longer story.


End file.
